


What I Did For Love

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-03-19
Updated: 1999-03-19
Packaged: 2018-11-10 18:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: The next morning....  This story is a sequel toLast Night of the World (DSX).





	What I Did For Love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Song Cycle #9: What I Did For Love

# Song Cycle #9:

#  What I Did For Love

**WARNING: PG-rated M/M angsting**. Follows "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?", "The Beat of a Different Drum", "On My Own", "Blue Moon," "Living in the Real World," "Clutching at a Dream," "Libera Me," and any and all versions of "Last Night of the World." 

* * *

_O.K., this is getting silly. This series needs some sort of title, if for no other reason than that "Warning:" block above is getting ridiculously long. I've been thinking for three parts now and having no luck. Chris has been calling it the "Song Cycle" and, barring anything that sounds better, I think that's what I'll go for. However, should anyone else have an idea, feel free to send it in! (Yes, that's also another shameless ploy to get more story comments. ;-)_

And yes, I made up another Inuit saying  <wince-- sorry!> because no one could help find me the deep philosophical quote I _know_ has to be out there somewhere. _Someone_ should have said it, dammit... and in better words than I managed! ;-) 

"What I Did for Love" is a great Sondheim song from the musical "A Chorus Line." 

The fact that this is still going is Due in no small part to those of you who keep harassing me (you know who you are!). If you didn't keep insisting someone else was enjoying this as well, I'd just wander off selfishly into day-dreamland all by myself. <g>

(And a quick TYK to Chris K. who "meep!"ed at me at a critical point and kept the Frasers from wandering off in a weird direction. ;-) 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine-- (Goddess, I wish! ;-) No offense or trespass intended and no profit made, I assure you. 

* * *

# What I Did For Love

**by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la Mercenaire")  
**   
_Cat.Goddess@pobox.com_   


* * *

> _Kiss today good-bye,_  
>  _And point me towards tomorrow._  
> 

Slipping out of your arms this morning was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my entire life, Ray. 

I woke just before dawn to this feeling of completeness-- of _fullness_. It was as if I finally fit perfectly for the first time-- into your arms, into this body, into the world. I simply lay there for a moment, staring at nothing at all and feeling a soul-deep peace no prayer or blessing has ever given me. 

Then the corner of my eye caught on the handgrip of your gun, tangled still in your discarded clothes, lying where they had fallen on the floor.... And the peace was gone, replaced by a strangely-detached resolve that made me feel almost insubstantial, light-headed, empty. As if I wasn't even there in my body any more.... 

> _We did what we had to do._  
> 

You have a career, a family, a life... and I would not take any of those away from you for all the world. It had to be done and it had to be done quickly, before my control slipped and I let myself do something we would both eventually regret. 

Once I was up I could keep going. There was so little there, most of it still packed, that I had no trouble slipping back into my clothes, coldly suppressing the memory of your warm hands sliding them off me.... 

I stopped at the door, one hand on the knob, debating whether to turn back for just a minute. It seemed somehow that I should need that-- a last look, a last gaze, a kiss.... Something to carry with me. But I felt no such need, so I simply left. 

What I carry with me from this moment, and always shall, is the hollow place in my soul where you are not. 

> _And I can't regret what I did for love,_  
>  _What I did for love._  
> 

I have never been so alive as when I was in your arms, Ray. 

For all the pain I know I will feel, for the way I know that everything in the rest of my life will fall somehow in the shadow of this memory, there is no way that I can think of this time with you as anything but a gift--the most incredible, most important twenty-seven-and-a-half hours of my life.... 

The Inuit have a saying, Ray, that to truly _live_ for a moment makes a lifetime of just _being_ worthwhile. 

I hope they're right. It seems I'll have the opportunity to find out. 

> _Look, my eyes are dry._  
> 

"Son, what are you doing?" 

"What does it look like I'm doing, Dad?" 

"It looks like you're being a damn fool." 

"Dad, don't start...." 

"You're finally in love with a good, decent human being and you're walking away. I mean, sure he's American, but you can't have everything, you know." 

"I rather thought you'd be disgusted." 

"What? Because he's a man? Oh please, I taught you better than that!" 

"No, no you didn't." 

"Well I didn't teach you an attitude like _that_." 

"No, you didn't teach me much about relationships, did you?" 

"I thought I taught you not to run away from your problems." 

"I'm _not_ running...!" 

"Don't you take that tone with your father!" 

"Look, Dad. If there were any way to stay without destroying his life, believe me, I'd take it in a second. But I won't make him choose between me and the rest of his life. I can't do that to him." 

"Did it ever occur to you that he might not see it that way?" 

"That's what I'm afraid of, Dad...." 

> _The dream was ours to borrow._  
>  _It's as if we always knew._  
> 

I wake up at night in the guest room at the consulate and it's your eyes, those beautiful eyes, that haunt me. The love, the desperation, the wanting, the _needing_... and the understanding that it could not last. 

How can you possibly convey all that in a single gaze? How could our souls finally come together in one night, locking together so that there was nothing more that needed to be said? 

And how could a night of passion that came from such desperation, such sadness, such despair have been so full of joy? 

> _And I won't forget what I did for love,_  
>  _What I did for love._  
> 

We had something so magical, Ray, a talisman against all the pain and suffering of the world. 

I would give my soul to keep what we had last night, to hold it safe between us against anything and everything the world threw at us. Against anything that might try to pull us apart. For what we had, for what we could have had, I would willingly give my very soul, Ray. 

But I would not, could not give yours. 

> _Gone. Love is never gone._  
> 

All those noble-sounding cliches about giving up everything for love.... It's what I'm doing, I suppose, because it's what I cannot ask of you. 

But I don't _feel_ noble, Ray. I just feel empty. 

> _As we travel on,_  
>  _Love's what we'll remember._  
> 

But I will have this one night, this one moment for the rest of my life, and with that behind me, inside me, I think I can face anything, Ray. 

Even the terrible prospect of a life without you in it. 

> _Kiss today good-bye,_  
>  _And point me towards tomorrow._  
> 

Life goes on, after all, and there is always plenty to do.... 

Inspector Thatcher left that afternoon for Ottawa without, apparently, taking any action on my relocation request. I say apparently because Turnbull simply cannot remember whether she indicated that she _intended_ to sign it or _had_ actually signed it. By the time I had carefully attempted to walk him through his memories of the previous day he was no longer sure whether the comment in question involved _signing_ or _refusing_ to sign the paperwork... I'm afraid it's quite hopeless. 

Short of calling Ottawa and attempting to reach the Inspector at the conference or attempting to contact my current superior in the Territories to determine if anything has been mentioned, I will simply have to wait until she returns. Since I plan to prevail upon one or both of them to either cancel my reposting or to rescind my request-- the third such change I have attempted to make in the space of a month-- I feel it is better not to unduly aggravate them. 

This does, however leave me in an uncomfortable limbo for the next twenty-four hours at least.... 

> _Wish me luck-- the same to you._  
> 

You haven't called or visited and that's good. Frankly, I'm not sure I could manage..... Better to leave things as they are. 

I suppose I'm a coward, but I simply can't bear the thought of the sorrow in those eyes as you tried to explain what is so painfully obvious, to spell out what you would have to give up for me. 

I know, Ray, I know. There's no need to put either of us through that. 

> _Won't forget, can't regret_  
>  _What I did for love,_  
> 

"Well at least now you won't be standing here on sentry duty for the rest of your life." 

**. . .**

"I know you're not supposed to talk to anyone while you're on duty like this, but I'm dead, you know. I don't think that counts." 

**. . .**

"Fine. You always were a damn stubborn child." 

**. . .**

"I just don't want to see you throw this away. Love's too rare to go wasting it, boy." 

**. . .**

"Are you listening to me?" 

**. . .**

"Look, son, just remember: Stoic's one thing; stupid's another." 

**. . .**

"You know, sometimes I really worry about you...." 

> _What I did for love,_  
>  _What I did for love._  
> 

_< finis>_

* * *

Dianne  
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- <cat.goddess@pobox.com>  
Vanity Web Page-- http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/  
-*-"Yes, it's true that I am an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely  
ceremonial."-*-


End file.
